No, not Elvis, Stephen, who's series The Dark Tower is comprised of quite possible the (so far) 5 greatest books I've ever read. Anyway, those who aren't avid readers of his must pick up the first five of the soon to be seven book series that has streched some 30-40 odd years of his life writing, anyway, enough endorsement, here ya go, although it's not done yet -

*There lies the dark tower,
O’er the hills of crimson tides,
Casting shadows over all it sees,
Though no sunlight dares touch its walls,

There lies the dark tower,
Reigning above all,
Heartless, it lives,
Mouth-less, consuming,

But there lie all the answers,
In this forbidden place,
Locked away in a crystal ball,
That reflects all our life’s mistakes,

Reaching towards, above, the sky,
Its pinnacle a blackened sun,
Staring out at the world, watching,
…Mocking,

And there lies the dark tower,
Beyond the edge of darkness,
Past the canvas, of the world we know,
Behind a veil of purple, crimson,
And nineteen shades of grey,

The gates are lined with roses,
Ironic, lovely things,
Infinite in their depths,
But evil to the core,
And there lies the tower, over all,

Approach the gates of the tower,
And silent chimes will ring,
Bitter in their sweetness,
Awaken the ageless thing,

Close your ears against the ringing,
But it’s coming from within,
Creeping up and down your spine,
Nourishing every sin,

This is where, time’s stretched beyond its means,
Like a worn out pair of jeans,
And playing some masochistic game,
The tower keeps it tight,

Past the gates of thirteen,
Where the roses nineteen lay,
The dark tower grows from its earthen roots;
Nineteen steps, nineteen reasons to go back,

Climb each with a practiced prayer,
Muttered through teeth; clenched in fear,
No sigh of relief at the plateau,
For the tower chokes the air,

As you near the door to your destiny,
It calmly greets you with a grin,
And the world turns to watch you,
Subconsciously, they stare,

As you step inside the tower,
Where everything is black,
Torches, down the corridor,
Somehow deepen the darkness therein,

A vision crosses your mind,
As the caustic chiming grows,
The petals of a rose, the light still gleaming; hope,
And a stairway rising from the ground,
Into that final room,*

Daniel, this piece is so intriquing! And very well written I might add. I had to read every word, twice, because I enjoy your style. Keep writing and give us some more to think about.
Suzanne

Thanks a lot, I'm glad you enjoyed it, anyway, I'm finished the rest of it now, here ya go-

The Dark Tower-

There lies the dark tower,
O’er the hills of crimson tides,
Casting shadows over all it sees,
Though no sunlight dares touch its walls,

There lies the dark tower,
Reigning above all,
Heartless, it lives,
Though mouth-less, consuming,

But there lie all the answers,
In this forbidden place,
Locked away in a crystal ball,
That reflects all our lives’ mistakes,

Reaching towards, above, the sky,
It’s pinnacle a blackened sun,
Staring out at the world, watching,
…Mocking,

And there lies the dark tower,
Beyond the edge of darkness,
Past the canvas, of the world we know,
Behind a veil of purple; crimson;
And nineteen shades of grey,

The gates are lined with roses,
Ironic, lovely things,
Infinite in their depths,
But evil to the core,
And there lies the tower, overseeing all,

Approach the gates of the tower,
And silent chimes will ring,
Bitter in their sweetness,
Awaken the ageless thing,

Close your ears against the ringing,
But it’s coming from within,
Creeping up and down your spine,
Nourishing every sin,

This is where, time’s stretched beyond its means,
Like a worn out pair of jeans,
And playing some masochistic game,
The tower keeps it tight,

Past the gates of thirteen,
Where the roses nineteen lay,
The dark tower grows from its earthen roots;
Nineteen steps, nineteen reasons to go back,

Climb each with a practiced prayer,
Muttered through teeth; clenched in fear,
No sigh of relief at their plateau,
For the tower chokes the air,

As you near the door to your destiny,
It calmly greets you with a grin,
And the world turns and time stands still,
Subconsciously, they wait, they watch,

As you step inside the tower,
Where everything is black,
Torches, down the corridor,
Somehow deepen the darkness therein,

A vision crosses your mind,
As the caustic chiming grows,
The petals of a rose, and the light still gleaming; hope,
And a stairway rising from the ground,
Into the final room,

Past nineteen windows,
Offering but a sliver of the outside’s darkness to slip in,
Impure against that of the tower,
And still the rose stands,
Though painted on a canvas;
Tearing at the seems,

Down a winding corridor,
Past twelve doors,
Engraved in each a symbol,
And a child’s fairy tale verse-

“See the BEAR of fearsome size!
All the WORLD’S within his eyes,
TIME grows thin, the past’s a riddle;
The TOWER awaits you in the middle.”

But the tower won’t await you any longer,
Now is the time, that ka has chosen,
This is where the future’s forged;
And the tower breathes again,

The thirteenth door lies silent,
This is where it ends,
No knob which shall grant you,
For the tower will decides,

With each passing moment the world seems to be crumbling around you,
This is the tower’s pain,
Agony beyond agony, as time stops, then flies by,
And the tower is dying-
Of its own accord-
And Blaine is a pain,

Through the deafeningly silence,
A hawk's cry pierces the cold walls,
And the doorway shudders open,
The tower holds on,

In the center of a table there sits a single rose,
Surrounded by grass; purple, brilliant,
And the curves on the walls; faces on water,
It shines with the force of an infinite suns,
This is what binds the tower,
And the tower rises above all,
Amidst the crimson fields,

Seven cards lie face down,
As each is turned, he calls out their names,
One by one,
And there they shall stand; ka-tet,
One of many;
And face their final battle,
And in the end, he would sing their names,
So he would, and the world would sing with him,

And still, the dark tower stands,
Reining over all,
And either the end,
Or a new beginning, draws near,
And there shall be light,
Flowing from the tower,
One last time.

Daniel, I honestly think this is brilliant! I am King's numero uno fan - his superlative writing WILL go down in history, it is unmatched and original.

I have to admit that I didn't read the Dark Tower or his serialised novel, (might be the same one), but the advertised genre of the book put me off, as well as the cost and obvious profiteering.

There are other writers out there but none come close to the King, the closest is Dean R Koontz.

King's characters are so true to life, his scenic painting is unbelievable, his focus on human weakness is frightening, yet his focus on all that is good is overwhelming.

Daniel - get his agent's address - and send your poem - it deserves King's attention at the very least ............

He is a writer supreme and I don't care what the experts say!!

Thank you good Sir Rusty for your kind words. And I couldn't agree more about Stephen King; his books are so... well, real. It's as though, while you're reading about something so horrendously far-fetched and you know it could never happen, the way he writes, just seems to make it plausible because you can identify. Just great stuff all around.

You must read the dark tower series, pick up a copy of the Gunslinger- they sell them paperback for about 10$ Canadian or 6$ american at any bookstore- it is one of his greatest writing feats ever.

Hmmm... never read anything by Koontz, although I'll try to find something down at the library.

And who are all these "experts" anyway though? Personally, I don't know how anyone who could critisize the King could be granted such a title.